Two Bloody Words
by Angel Marie1
Summary: Josh’s POV in an anguished drabble.


Title: Two Bloody Words  
  
Author: Angel Marie  
  
Spoilers: The story takes place after "Memorial Day" or during, depending on your view.  
  
Summary: Josh's POV in an anguished drabble.  
  
Disclaimer: They are not mine. They belong to Aaron Sorkin, John Wells, the Warner Brothers Corp, NBC, etc. etc.

* * *

Pulmonary embolism. Nothing good ever happens after I hear those words.  
  
"It's a blood clot." I watch the doctor turn away from me and rush into the operation room; my own words echoing in my head.  
  
But as I hear it, it's not my voice saying it. I'm staring in through the window and I hear the President saying those exact words.  
  
"It's a blood clot."  
  
"Yeah." I'm not here, in the hospital, anymore. I'm sitting in those black leather chairs, looking at the then governor as he tries to comfort me for my loss.  
  
"Your father died, Josh." He says. "What happened?"  
  
"He went in for his chemo. He developed a pulmonary embolism. It's—"  
  
"It's a blood clot."  
  
"Yeah. It went straight to his heart."  
  
I close my eyes and I'm back, staring into the operation room. There's a lot of people surrounding her now and I can barely see her. There are greenish blue sheets being laid on top of her; covering her.  
  
Is this how it was? Is this how Donna felt when I was in surgery? Sam had once mentioned that Donna stood at the glass window for over 3 hours, unwavering. Can I stand here 3 hours without leaving the window? Were these roles once reversed? What could she have possibly focused on that kept her there for 3 hours?  
  
I blink again and I remember the day she came back to work. She walked into the campaign headquarters and I turned to her.  
  
"Thank God. There's a pile of papers on my desk I need you to go through." She stared at me for a moment in baffle and gave me a small smile before heading into my office. It took me two hours to notice the bandage on her leg.  
  
"I need you to put together a packet of press releases for CJ." And when I turned, I noticed it for the first time. "What happened to your leg?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Your leg. What happened to it?" She glanced down for a millisecond before going back to the files in her lap.  
  
"I had a little accident."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I slipped." I leaned back against the door frame.  
  
"How'd you slip?" She stops and looks up at me, placing her hand on top of the papers heavily.  
  
"It's silly really. There was a late thaw and when I went out in the morning the dew had frozen on the walk. I slipped on a small patch and cut it on one of those mini lamp posts."  
  
"Did you have to get stitches?"  
  
"Yeah, but not that many."  
  
"How many?"  
  
"Sixteen." I cringed and shook it off.  
  
"Yeah. Okay." I start to head out the door and point at her with the file in my hand. "Get those to CJ."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
That's the only time I remember seeing Donna banged up in any way. I don't even think I've ever seen her sick. She's strong. She always has been and she will be now. I know it. Four people were in that SUV when the bomb went off. Three of them died on sight; she was the only one that survived. I'll be damned it I'll believe she's going to loose this battle days later.  
  
My focus is back in that room again. They're working around her steadily and it doesn't even seem as if they've moved around. All that's visible to me at this moment is her face. Even under all the scrapes covering her face, even with her hair matted down by sweat, she looks gorgeous to me.  
  
Why haven't I ever noticed her? I mean, I have, but I've never realized how much so. Joey and Amy had both pointed out to me that Donna was in love with me. Which I found ludicrous. But no matter how crazy it sounded, they never asked me if I loved her. Yeah, Amy asked me if I was dating her, but never mentioned it after that.  
  
"If you were in an accident, I wouldn't stop for a beer, is all I'm saying."  
  
"Josh, if you were in an accident, I wouldn't stop for red lights."  
  
How could I be so naive? If that isn't a tell, I don't know what is. But still we abate each other. No more. If she makes it out of there, I don't care how many suave' photographers I have to compete against, I'm going to admit it all.  
  
Correction; not if, when.  
  
I have to remember that. No matter how pale she seems, she's going to make it. She has such fair alabaster skin, after all.  
  
I see a few people pulling the blue-green drop from her body and tossing it in a bio-safety can. I glance to the clock and it's been 3 and a half hours.  
  
So that's how she did it.  
  
The doctor is walking towards the door beside me. The last words he said to me come rushing back.  
  
Pulmonary embolism.  
  
Nothing in my life is ever good when I hear those two bloody words.

* * *


End file.
